It's Man Against Squirrel

June 26, 2002|By MIKE HOLTZCLAW Guest Columnist

Ahab had his whale. Wile E. Coyote was downright obsessive in his pursuit of the Roadrunner. That creepy kid from "Friday the 13th, Part IV" doggedly chased Jason all the way through "Part V" and "Part VI."

Me? I've got squirrels.

Specifically, the squirrels who keep raiding the bird feeder we recently installed outside our kitchen window. We tried to reason with them -- "Look, guys, this is birdseed, see? Birdseed" -- but they wouldn't listen. And I failed miserably in my attempt to convince them that the food was much fresher and tastier in my neighbor Joe's bird feeder.

I tried greasing the pole so that the little buggers would slip as they climbed toward the feed trays. Didn't work. They simply began leaping from the porch railing to the feeder, which is even worse because now we're constantly distracted by their gleeful shrieks of Wheeee!

A friend suggested mixing cayenne pepper in with the birdseed. Only mammals can taste it, she explained, so it won't bother the birds but it will burn the squirrels' mouths. So we laced the seed with ground red pepper and eagerly awaited the sight of a frantic squirrel dashing around looking for a pitcher of ice water. But the pepper didn't faze them, so we switched to bigger flakes of crushed red pepper and doubled the dosage. The squirrels left a nice note thanking me for the extra seasoning, attaching a jambalaya recipe as a suggestion for future meals.

So it's come to this: I throw things at them. I throw anything I can get my hands on -- tennis balls, soccer balls, basketballs, badminton rackets, hockey sticks. When I run out of sporting goods, I throw small deck furniture.

My two young sons think it's a game, and they consider it highly entertaining. Sometimes they run around the yard collecting balls and other projectiles to stockpile by the back door for daddy to heave. Whenever a squirrel gets within 10 yards of the feeder, they begin shouting and pointing out the window, anticipating the spectacle of their father racing out the door to throw small household objects at scurrying rodents.

Unfortunately, the squirrels seem to think it's a game, too. The other day one of them, after scrambling to the safety of a high tree branch, pointed down at me and did a little touchdown dance. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I can hear them in the backyard, devising new strategies and practicing their zigzag escape routes.

At some point, I asked myself why we discriminate like this. Why should we put out food for birds but not for squirrels? Isn't there enough for all the backyard denizens to share? I flashed back to my childhood, when I required years of therapy to overcome feelings of guilt stemming from cereal commercials in which kids my age cruelly refused to share their breakfast with rabbits and leprechauns.

But the good feelings never last. Invariably, another squirrel pulls up a seat at the buffet table, and the kids start cheering in anticipation of the show. And then I'm bolting out the back door, grabbing the nearest spherical object and firing away.

My wife has gotten used to this routine and now limits her commentary to rolling her eyes and an occasional sad, slow headshake. But my mother-in-law, visiting recently, pointed out to me that this whole exercise was doing nothing to discourage the squirrels from raiding the bird feeder.

I know that, I assured her. But the kids are entertained, the squirrels are having fun, and my throwing arm has gotten strong enough that I'm thinking of trying out for a spot in the Norfolk Tides' bullpen.

As long as everyone is happy, why change anything?

Mike Holtzclaw is filling in for Tony Gabriele today. He can be reached at 928-6479 or by e-mail at mholtzclaw@daily press.com. Tony Gabriele will return next week.